


Gift Of The Selfish Asshole

by Left_Handed_Rick



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: It's a Christmas Special Morty!, M/M, Okay maybe a little bit of angst, but hes really just an ex machina, escapin that lil bit of angst, fluff like snow, if you look really close squint and turn your head sideways, lots of fluff, ricks gets rekt, shitty earth hospitals, you might see a teensy tiny bit of stanchez in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 10:49:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13052484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Left_Handed_Rick/pseuds/Left_Handed_Rick
Summary: Rick only had one thing of value that he could give up.---A Rick and Morty Christmas special that plays on the theme of a holiday classic, "Gift of the Magi” by O. henry.This work is part of the 2017 Rick and Morty Secret Santa, and is for Rojizasays. I hope you like it!





	1. Fuck Christmas

 

_Don’t ignore what's happening here..._

_There may not be another time..._

_I may never get this chance again..._

_We may never be able to return to this moment..._

Rick's drunken thoughts were interrupted as he overheard some bullshit romantic pick up line from the man currently sharing a smoke break with his co-worker.

Under normal circumstances, he would have thought the words too pithy and reaching to take with any amount of seriousness, but tonight, he was too exhausted to care enough to guard himself from the feelings of guilt and regret they stirred within him.

He drunkenly stumbled past them, shooting a look of disgust in their general direction at the pretense of pity on their expressions.  
  
He spilled onto the city street, nearly getting hit by a passing car. It's tires screeched as the breaks engaged, causing the car to swerve dangerously around Rick. The inebriated man spun around to flip the diver off and threw his alcohol bottle after the vehicle. The quick motion caught him off guard and he quickly lost balance, collapsing onto the busy street, the lights and sounds of the world continuing to spin around him.

A stranger rushed over to assist Rick. They escorted him across the street against a barrage of his slurred expletives and his dangerously swaying weight as he tried to push him away. Eventually he encouraged the stranger to abandon him on the sidewalk, ensuring that this is where he wanted to be left. He slowly made his way towards the alley where his ship had crashed. 

Even as the side had been crushed into the brick wall of the alley, It was still a sight for sore eyes. He pried the door open and fell into it's welcoming embrace. He kicked around empty bottles and shuffled trash around his form. Satisfied with the bed he had made for himself he glanced upwards through the glass to enjoy the silent show of snow swirling around like dust against a backdrop of the night sky.

The snow from earlier had removed the pollution of the city. The clouds had dissipated to reveal an unobstructed view of the sky. The stars burned bright and spectacular against the backdrop of the unobstructed milky way.

He wished Morty could share this moment with him. 

Ricks thoughts returned to the conversation of the strangers who had assisted him, and he glanced at the blood stains on the seat.

How could Rick have let this happen. On Earth. Christmas Eve.

The old man held back the alcohol-influenced emotions as they caught in his throat and swirled in his mind like the snow outside the ship. He shoved a bitter middle finger towards the beautiful view. 

It wasn't that beautiful.

**“Fuck Christmas.”**


	2. Not Drunk Enough for This Shit

 

The alcohol had given Rick the ability to find sleep. But it was restless and tormenting. In a half lucid state he drunkenly mumbled his thoughts to the visions of the night which replayed in his slumber.  

He had made a mistake.

Morty had been exhilarated to spend Christmas eve with him. Rick had planned, for Morty’s enjoyment, an extremely traditional, overtly cliche, and spectacularly normal evening. He had used the premise of taking a break to enjoy a normal Earth holiday for once, to set up the romantic surprise.

Rick had never been one for traditional dinner dates. But they had only recently breached the topic of trying to address the tension that was continuing to build between them. Morty had admitted his feelings for Rick one afternoon, high on the adrenaline and bravado of surviving another adventure with the scientist. Rick, too afraid of losing Morty with a rejection - and if he were being fully honest with himself, also irresponsibly wanting Morty - did not responsibly push him away. They had accepted that they had entered into some sort of non-traditional unspoken relationship, But outside of that, their conversations halted. 

Until one afternoon, where Morty suggested a date. So here they were, dressed in formal clothing, Rick treated Morty to a nice candlelight dinner and together they enjoyed exploring the seasonal lights adorning the downtown city streets.  

Rick asked Morty if he had been enjoying the evening. Morty nodded but Rick had always been able to see right through him. Morty wasn’t subtle in the slightest. He twiddled his fingers and stole a quick glance towards rick, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. The slight bite that Morty unconsciously gave his lips seemed a bit sultry in its unspoken suggestions. It seemed Morty may have been hoping for something less traditional.

Rick had been uncertain when it came to this aspect of their relationship. He had never exerted a large amount of willpower in his life. He never hesitated to take what he wanted, when he wanted it. But this was strangely different to him, and it took every bit of willpower he had to allow Morty to set the pace when it came to physical contact with each other. They had kissed, and on a few occasions that Rick could count on one hand, they had very lightly explored each other in the darkened room on Rick’s cot, but that was the extent of it. Rick was sure that Morty had at times, wanted more from Rick, but because of the nature of their relationship, he would not allow himself to steer it’s progress. He wanted, no, Rick needed to be certain that it was moving or not moving on Morty’s terms.

Rick reached out to take Morty’s hand, lacing their fingers together, blushing for feeling like a fucking highschooler. Morty’s panicked expression looked towards the sea of strangers, who were indifferent to their actions, before deeply blushing in response and turning towards the older man with a smile.

Rick lost himself for a moment staring at morty’s eyes. They seemed to pick up even the dimmest lights, refracting the iridescent specs of color that surrounded him. His face and hair haloed by the soft glow of the surrounding seasonal lights. His cheeks flushed, and streams of nervous breath exhaled as the brunette studied Rick’s uncharacteristically soft expression which had been studying him.

The way in which the moment captured Morty so perfectly had caused Rick to momentarily forget himself. He was captured by its mundanity, enamored by Morty’s normalcy, because although he appeared to be boring and mundane, he was far from. Every time Rick was reminded of this of this, he would feel himself swept away by its simple charm, and the desire to take him to the ends of the observable universe would stir within him.

It was a neurochemical con job which had caused Rick to lower his guard for the sake of being able to share a moment with Morty.

That was his mistake.

Rick Sanchez should have known that he could never let his guard down. The forces who would hunt him down would always lay in wait for such a moment. It didn't matter that Rick was unable to remember the last time he saw Morty smile in such a way. It didn’t matter that it was Christmas eve, and they were with each other, inside of a space that had not been intended for anyone else. It didn’t matter that Morty had nothing to do with what Rick had done in the past.

Morty released his hand from Rick’s and his body shifted to run ahead. He wanted to get a closer look of the fifty foot tall main attraction. Rick stopped himself from chasing after, holding himself back to selfishly watch and catalogue within his mind the image of this moment.

A flash of light fell in the space where Rick should have been. Before he could process the visual stimulation, the sound of his panicked name being called drew his attention towards the ground. Morty lay before him, collapsed and clutching at his abdomen as a dark stain, began to bloom through the fabric of his jacket.

A moment is all it takes. To lose everything.

 

*******

 

Rick had always assumed that he would react to seeing a potentially life threatening wound on Morty with the same calculated assessment that he had approached everything else.

After all, It was only rational that Morty’s chance for survival increased at Rick’s ability to keep such a distance from the situation.

What a fucking lie he had told himself.

The stimulation of seeing Morty collapsed before him, bleeding out from a ray gun wound through his abdomen, overwhelmed Rick’s senses until his vision burned a hot white.

The next few hours of the night melted into a blur of events. Rick vaguely remembered pulling out his blaster and taking out two Galactic Federation gromofolite snipers. He pulled his portal gun from his pocket. Another laser shot it from his hand and Rick watched as it shattered across the ground on impact. Rick cursed as he grabbed the body of his portal gun, set it to self destruct, and threw it against the fifty foot decorated tree. He tossed his Jacket in favor of being able to maneuver. He scooped up Morty and fled towards the ship. 

He felt his blaster drop while running and made the decision that the seconds it would take to retrieve it were too many. He heard the explosion of the portal gun behind him, and the roar of the panicked masses as they registered the source of the sound. Rick took advantage of the induced crowd-hysteria to slip away.

He threw the portal gun into the fifty foot Christmas tree to prevent citizen injury - not that the prevention of injury was his goal. Rick didn’t want to stretch out the resources of the nearest hospital. He pressed Morty’s hand over the gunshot wound, yelling at him to keep pressure on it.

He would have to take his chances on an earth hospital. Morty wouldn't make it otherwise.  The sounds of his grandson in pain were an unwelcome distraction from the task of getting them both out of this alive.

“Quit your bitching, Morty! You’re gonna be fine. Grandpa’s here.”

Rick cranked the passenger seat of the spaceship to a reclining position and gently set Morty on the chair. Using one hand to hold Morty’s wound he fished out a medi kit from his glove box, and quickly went to work. He dematerialized Morty’s Jacket to access the wound, only briefly considering that he had also de-materialized any item that had been in the jacket as well.

He pulled out a packet with alien writing, ripped it open with his mouth and dumped the contents onto Morty’s chest. Rick held the boy down as the gel came to life and slithered into Morty’s gunshot wound. The boy screamed and thrashed as the gel went to work repairing the incinerated cell walls. Rick barred an arm across his chest to hold him still while the plasma took.  

“Morty! They shot you with a heat ray gun! I need to neutralize the burn or it will continue to spread. You think some shitty fucking Earth hospital is gonna know how to handle this shit? They’d fuckin - let you die while scratching their asses! ”   

 

*******

  
Rick’s hands were shaking too much. He couldn't control the ship. He crashed it while trying to land in an icy alleyway about a block from the nearest Earth hospital. Rick carried Morty into the emergency room where he was immediately whisked away from Rick’s shaking hands.

Rick immediately regretted his decision to bring him here. He didn’t like the way they handled him as if he were just another patient. He didn’t like the way they spoke to him with cold clinical tones - like it didn’t even matter to them that he was bleeding out.     

Rick argued with the front desk, unable to prove his identity. He hadn’t needed to use an Earth hospital since the birth of his daughter, and had forgotten that they were a bureaucratic shitstorm.

“So Yeah, let me make sure I understand your fucked up policy here. You seriously won't treat him outside of _"life-stabilizing procedures"_ without funds up front **because** its a gunshot wound and you're automatically assuming this is gang affiliated? Holy shit! A-are you even listening to yourself right now?”

The worker at the front desk was not used to being confronted so directly. She began to rephrase her earlier response. Rick interrupted her.

“Y-yeah yeah I get it. I can't prove shit, and you won’t take my word on it.” 

“Mr. Sanchez is there anyone you can contact- “ 

“What part of the word _**stranded**_ do you not understand!”

Rick’s voice rose as he gripped the edge of the front desk feeling his knuckles turn white. He felt his pulse rise as he listened to the heavy rise and fall of his breath - actively ignoring the regurgitated policies the woman at the front desk insistently continued to spit at him. He retreated into his mind to reassess the situation looking for his next move.  

They had already taken Morty into the back. Rick could not allow himself to get kicked out by losing his temper, and he did not want to use any of his cybernetic augmentations to make threats because he had already connected himself to Morty, who was assumed to have gang affiliation because of the gunshot wound.

Rick needed to be around when Morty woke up, before the hospital staff started asking him stupid questions. Morty probably didn’t even know what city he was in, and he’d probably volunteer way too much information. The situation could easily go from bad to worse.    
  
He did not want to draw attention to the hospital because it risked Morty’s treatment.

He did not want to draw attention to himself after setting off a bomb and fleeing the scene less than 3 miles away.  

Over the course of the night he had lost his portal gun, his blaster, and just about every valuable possession he or Morty had owned. He had cornered himself with a slew of bad decisions. He needed to play by their rules, until he could think of a way out.

That was his only move right now. 

He reached for his flask, only to quickly remember that he had left it in his abandoned jacket.

Fuck, did he need a drink right now.

“Look, trust me, I know. The chances of this happening to someone like Morty and I are about the same as a Christmas Miracle. Good ol’ St. Rick decided to dry fuck me up the ass with a dirty dick of a jackpot with these odds tonight.”

Ricks quelled his rising temper. Rick rarely ever asked for sympathy, but all he wanted in this moment was to sit in the same room as Morty’s so he could think straight and find a way out of this. He took a deep breath. 

“I let my guard down for one second, and now, my grandson is one room over on Christmas eve confused and alone - potentially dying because I couldn't pick a better hospital. And now, you won’t even let me see him! The one person he has right now.” 

Rick heard the slight crack in his voice. He hadn’t intended it, but if it helped sell his case right now, he’d exploit it for everything he could.

“Y-You understand how fucked up this is, right?”

The woman at the front desk remained impersonal to Rick’s desperation.   

“Mr. Sanchez. You cannot provide any proof of the relationship you have to the patient. Due to the nature of his injury, our policy is that we must not allow visitation -” 

Rick resisted the desire to kidnap his grandson. He couldn’t risk finding Morty another hospital in time. He needed a blood transfusion if the heat gun plasma was going to be effective, but even then Rick knew enough to know that there was no guarantee, the way the shot had hit him…There were too many variables to fully assess the situation.

Rick had kept himself focused on the things that he could do tonight, to avoid this very thought from manifesting in his mind. He didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility. But as he stood at the desk, unable to do a single thing. The guilt ripped into him as the thought took hold. The situation didn’t look good. He at least wanted to be next to Morty if he was about to…

 

He didn’t want Morty to be alone on Christmas.

 

Rick’s anger returned in full. He slammed his fists on the countertop, and shoved an accusing finger into the face of the indifferent front desk worker. He grabbed his crotch making an obscene gesture.

“No - fuck it! I’m not drunk enough for your shit. Fuck you and your shitty earth hospital and merry fucksmas to your shitty commercial holiday and it’s capitalist spirit. The moral of this Christmas story is that asking for a little sympathy gets you fucking nowhere.” 

Rick needed distance. He needed a drink. He needed to clear his head so he could think of a way out of this.

He blinked back angry tears as he turned to run out of the front doors to the hospital, knocking over some lounge furniture in his hurried escape.  


	3. Lonely On Christmas Eve

Rick angrily paced the cold winter streets surrounding the hospital. The wind that bit at his thin frame without the protection of a jacket was a welcome distraction as he mentally berated himself over the events of the night. He needed to think of a way out of this. 

The motion of walking did nothing to help the outlook of the situation, but it eased Ricks mind in that he was doing _something_. He wasn’t one to sit still and wait.    

That’s when he saw it in the display window of a pawn shop. The blue vial and syringe handle were unmistakable. How the fuck could one of these have ended up on earth?  

Rick pressed his face into glass of the window and laughed, before quickly falling quiet as his paranoia kicked in. He cautiously looked around himself, after all, he had just been nearly assassinated, and It was not beyond him that this could very likely be just another trap. Luck didn’t exist, It was concept - but even so, after a shitty night built out of bad circumstance, his luck seemed too good to be true in spotting this serum.

But even so, there it was. A pure serum displayed in the pawn shop window. It could easily stabilize Morty’s condition and reverse the damage of the heat gun. It could repair the vital organs. It could save his life. 

Rick didn’t care if it was a trap. He was willing to roll the dice, He walked into the storefront, afraid of what he might do to make his own luck. 

 

*******

 

“You know, It's a pretty fucked up business model you have here. Preying on and exploiting sentimental value and desperation. I bet your business thrives in this shitty holiday season.” 

Rick leaned against the countertop, anxiously glancing at the serum which now sat on the counter between him, a bottle of whiskey, a rifle, and the owner of the pawn shop. The man poured a shot for each of them.”

“Care for a drink? I find that the burn of Whiskey is warmer than any fireplace on Christmas Eve.”

Rick’s face lit up at the offer, the store clerk had no fucking idea. He raised a toast in appreciation.  

“Stan, right? Here’s to being lonely enough on Christmas eve that you offer a drink to the man who tries to rob you.” 

Rick took a shot and studied the owner of the pawn shop. He had intended to simply break into the pawn shop, and walk out with the serum. While he was cautious of a Galactic Federation ambush, He hadn’t intended to find his face sucking the barrel end of a shotgun the second his fingers touched the serum. And now they were drinking together? Typical pawn shop. Rick had to hand it to the guy, he was running his business better than the hospital.

Rick reached into his shirt and fished out a delicate chain from around his neck. He fussed with the clasp for a moment before removing the necklace, and set it on the table. A simple, elegant ring was looped through the metal of the chain. It caught even the dim light of the pawn shop and glowed, casting iridescent refractions against the surface it rest on.  

Rick smirked at the sharp breath Stan took at the sight of it. He asked for permission to touch it. Rick nodded and spoke while the store clerk pulled out magnifying loops to more closely examine the ring.  

“Y’know. Before seeing this serum in the window, I was about to steal a santa suit or some shit and rob a liquor store for the money. It was uh...getting pretty desperate, even for my standards.”

Rick helped himself to another shot. 

“Morty wouldn’t have liked that. A~and I don't want to contribute to the crusty shitstain that is already Christmas.” 

Rick stared through the glass, registering the dried bloodstains on his clothing. 

“Besides...A liquor store wouldn’t have had enough money. And I don’t really have the energy to point anymore guns at anyone tonight.”

Rick trailed the conversation. He rarely ever participated in fair trades. He could count the trades where he was the party with the disadvantage on one hand. But tonight - for once in his life, he was going to give something up at great cost to himself because Morty’s life depended on it. 

Things like Poetic justice and Karma were also concepts that Rick didn't like to give stock in.  

“Look, I don’t know how you got a hold of that serum, and probably - I-if I’m being honest - the less I know the better for both our sakes...but what I was trying to say earlier with my personal anecdote is that - I’m glad I happened to walk by your store tonight.”  

Stan glanced at Rick full of fascination and questions. He handed the ring back to Rick and smiled. 

“Me too.” 

Rick looked bitterly at the ring in his hands. Constantly wearing it around his neck had made the piece of jewelry somewhat invisible to him. It had been a long time since he actually held it, and reminisced over the meaning it held. He regretted that this would be his last moment to do so. 

“That’s fine craftsmanship.”  

Rick rolled his eyes at the need for the pawn shop owner to state what was already obvious. Of course it was good quality. It’s the best craftsmanship you’d find in the three closest star systems, let alone earth. Rick knew this because he had made the ring for Diane. 

Rick had known that his former wife had never stopped loving him. He could never blame her for the fallout. She made the right call when she decided she wanted out. Rick had continued to wear the ring around his neck after she returned it to him as a reminder.  There was no doubt in Rick's mind that he would have gotten her and beth killed,  just like...  

Rick clutched the ring tightly to his chest for a long moment before letting out a heavy sigh.   

“Ugh. Fuck it. I’ll take the deal. I’m accepting your bullshit offer to trade.”  

Stan looked surprised, he clearly did not expect him to take the deal. He assumed that Rick was merely showing off the ring as a demonstration of his ability to acquire things of value. He held Rick’s gaze for a moment waiting for him to change his mind. When Rick extended his hand towards Stan with determination. Stan choked on his drink.

“Wait! You're Serious?” 

Rick rolled his eyes again. He was growing impatient. He wanted to make this decision fast, before he had the chance to backpedal on it. Stan’s questioning gaze was not helping. 

“You said, If I had something of value, you’d trade. This ring is the only thing of value that I regularly carry on my person. And because of circumstance tonight, it is the only thing of value I have to offer up for the deal.” 

Rick stopped the store clerk from interrupting and continued to state the obvious for him. It was less annoying if Rick did it.

“And Yeah, before you say it - I'm aware that I’m getting fucked up the ass on this one. Your going to take the offer because you can see I'm too desperate to care. And you're right. I am too desperate to care. I guess you could say Christmas has me feeling generous.”

Rick pushed the ring into the The store clerk’s hands.

“Not that you asked but, on Earth, that ring is easily worth 100 times what I'm trading it to you for. And the sentimental value is priceless.” 

The store clerk smiled at him and poured another shot of whiskey for his customer, he liked to seal deals with a drink.   


“But it sounds like the trade is still worth it to you.”  

“What I have the ability to hold onto with my hands right now. In this moment. Is more important than the memories this ring will ever hold. So yeah. It is. Look. Do we have a deal or not?”

Rick left the shot and grabbed the whiskey bottle. 

“I’m taking this too.”

The store clerk slid the serum towards Rick who held it with a tenderness he thought he would never see emerge from that man.  

“Could you at least have a few more rounds with me before you go?” 

Rick looked dumbstruck.  

“What? Why would I do that?” 

“Because you're taking my last bottle, and I don’t want to be alone on christmas eve.”

Rick’s face softened. Because of this man, Morty was going to be okay. It was a certainty - and the relief that came with certainty tonight was something Rick was actively avoiding manifesting in his thoughts because it would break him after tonight's emotional whiplash.  

All this man was asking for, was some company. 

Rick could spare the time it took to have a few more drinks with him. He raised the bottle 

“Here’s to being lonely on Christmas eve” 

 

*******

 

For all the PR bullshit that was spouted to him earlier, the hospital did little to enforce their policy. Rick had easily located and snuck into Morty’s room. He had been annoyed with himself that he had earlier equated the earth hospital security with an intergalactic one. What a fucking Joke. Rick resolutely made the decision equip a medical rig on his ship. He was never bringing Morty to an earth hospital again.   

He snuck into Morty’s room and found him on the bed asleep. He looked like he had seen better days, but his vitals had more or less stabilized. Rick nervously watched his oxygen levels dip.  

Rick pulled back the bandaging to take a look at the gunshot wound, fighting back a new wave of guilt as the weight of the situation fully registered. 

That gunshot wound had been meant for him. 

The plasma gel had done little to hold the body tissue in tact. It was enough to stop the blood loss, but it wouldn't have nearly been enough. The unavoidable truth of the situation presented itself to Rick.

Without the Serum, Morty really would have died from this.  

Rick found his thoughts returning to Diane. Emotions that had been long since been buried resurfaced, as he was forced to confront the reality that Diane walked away from. What the fuck was Rick doing, getting Morty involved in his shit like this? He mentally apologized to her and Morty, reaching to his chest to feel the ring having forgotten that it was no longer there.  

He pressed the serum into Morty’s neck and injected it, willing himself to return his gaze to the wound and watch the damage of the heat gun begin to reverse. Morty immediately began to breathe easier, the color returned to his cheeks. His vitals further stabilized. 

Just like that - He was going to be okay. He’d wake up in a few hours.  

Another Rick and Morty adventure, wrapped up in a neat little bow. 

Guilt washed over Rick, as he stared at the boy. He couldn’t face him when he woke up. He pressed his hand on Morty’s cheek and kissed his forehead. His lips began to quiver as he felt the warmth of a body that was alive and well beneath him. 

Tonight, he remembered why Diane had wanted out.   

“I-I’m sorry morty. I know you want me to be here when you wake up. But I can’t -”

Rick gripped his whisky bottle and took a deep chug, welcoming the familiar burn. He could now drink in ease, knowing Morty was going to be alright. He retreated from Morty’s hospital room and began to make his way back to the ship, thankful for the company of alcohol, and the thought that he wasn’t going to be alone with his thoughts on christmas eve. 


	4. Sorry

Rick’s head pounded as he raised his arm to block the morning light. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the rising headache as the events of the past 12 hours creeped back into his memory.

It was a few more moments before Rick registered the familiar weight pressed against his side. It slightly stirred in response to Rick’s motions.

Morty lay on the floor of the ship pressed next to him. He had pulled a blanket and a few pillows out of the bucket seat compartment, and had covered them both sometime during the night. Rick noticed a fresh bottle of bourbon, had also been set against the windshield of the ship with a note:

_Merry Christmas! If you’re still stranded tonight, come have dinner at the pawn shop.  – Stan_

Rick pushed back the wave of nausea and emotions. He took a moment to enjoy the feeling of Morty laying next to him. It was a rarity to wake up with him like this. He hugged Morty close before gently nudging the boy awake.

“Morty! What are you doing out of the hospital?”

Morty fought waking up, but Rick wouldn't let him fall back asleep until Morty answered his question. He sat up, and rubbed his eyes.

“I uh, I woke up at the hospital, and I felt better. So I just, you know... left”

Rick altogether wasn’t surprised at the explanation. He threw his head back as his annoyance with the hospital continued to grow. Fuck it - that was one less thing he had to figure out. Morty continued.

“I just…”

Morty glanced down toward Rick.

“I didn’t want you to wake up alone on Christmas.”

Rick’s head continued to throb as he fought back another wave of emotions. He brought his hand to his face and pressed his palms into his eyes, willing to headache to go away. The hangover gave a bit more of a bite to his usual guarded reply.

“Oh wow, Morty, that’s - that’s very selfless of you. A regular - fucking image of christ - Nearly dying for people who sure as fuck didn’t deserve your kindness or love in the first place.”  

Morty’s face fell at his words. Rick sensed the impending apology and he added another notch to the past 12 hours of his self-hatred.

“Sorry I don’t have a better christmas gift for you, Rick.”

“Ugh. Morty, Just - shut up for a second. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m hungover, and have a bitch of a headache, and your fucking worried about Christmas -”

Rick sat up to fish some aspirin out of the glovebox. He cracked the fresh bottle of bourbon to wash them down. He pulled Morty onto his lap and wrapped the blanket around them, closing his eyes and gently swaying with Morty in his arms while his headache subsided.

Rick nuzzled his face into the brunettes hair, and pulled him closer with a bit more possessiveness than he would have liked to admit. He was always a comfort when he was feeling unwell. Morty remained quiet in his arms, having dealt with Rick’s hangovers before.

Rick took a deep breath inhaling the scent of the boy. He smelled like a hospital.   

“Morty...What I meant was that - we are stranded. The portal gun is broke, the ship - if you haven't noticed, i-it’s not only crashed, but also probably out of gas because I have to wait until it's on fucking empty before I do something about it. We’ve both lost our wallets and phones, and your family is gonna be pissed if and when we ever make it back home. We fucked up Christmas, Morty.”  

Morty began to squirm as Rick fed him anxiety after anxiety. Rick had guessed that Morty hadn’t bothered to assess their situation. So when Rick laid it all out and suggested that they had ruined Christmas, Morty began to understand how bad the situation actually was. Rick held Morty tighter as he began to panic, planting a kiss on the back of his neck.

Morty froze at the unexpected gesture from Rick. Rick never been the one to initiate closeness like this. Rick smirked, resting his head on Morty’s shoulder before continuing.   

“We have absolutely nothing going for us right now, except for dinner from a near-stranger that I’m pretty sure wants a piece of your grandpa. - Not saying grandpa won’t put out to feed you if you get hungry, Morty, but it’s not exactly the best silver lining... But as far as I’m concerned Morty.”

Rick trailed before freeing Morty to turn him around. Rick held his shoulders as he spoke to him.  

“You being alive. Is the best fucking christmas gift you could have given to me, Okay?”  

Rick watched Morty’s expression responding to his own. Rick was uncharacteristically affectionate and vulnerable today. It was making Morty panic. Rick mentally berated himself. Why did he have to be such a guarded prick around Morty all the time. Him opening up shouldn’t cause such a shitty reaction from the kid.   

“Look Morty, I’m feeling a bit... I almost lost you last night. And it made me. It gave me a little bit of perspective. You already know this by now, I'm sure. but I can’t promise that this will be the last time, something like this is gonna happen to you, or me for that matter. You’ve had front row seats to see how much of a fucked up person I can be. And you know better than most - that the people close to me don’t get off scotch free.”

Rick took a breath.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is... this is. I-It shouldn't have to be your life too.”

Morty’s expression bled into a full panic as his eyes began to shift around the room, avoiding Ricks gaze. Morty did not respond to Rick. His voice went quiet, listening to every word that fell out of Ricks mouth as if his life depended on it.

“I know you like this Christmas shit, so I’m trying to be little selfless today Morty. I wanna put it out on the table...If you want out  -”

**“Rick!”**

Morty’s voice cracked as he refused to let rick finish the thought. He dug something out of his pocket and shoved it into Rick’s chest. It was Diane’s Ring.

“W-What the fuck, Morty! How the hell did you-”

Morty frowned as he stared at Rick. He looked betrayed for a moment as he watched the carousel of emotions rotate across Ricks features upon seeing and holding the ring he thought he’d never reunite with.

“A man stopped by my room at the hospital this morning.”

Rick scrubbed his hand through his hair, and at a loss for words continued to stare at the ring.

“He-He told me what you did.”


	5. Fuck Christmas (Reprise)

“This ring must be very special to Rick, but he was still willing to trade it for your life, last night.”

Stan sat in the hospital room next to Morty’s bed. He let the ring dangle from the chain in front of Morty as he explained how it came into his possession.  

“My Ma was a psychic, and I ended up being a very superstitious kind of guy. So after Rick told me about the ring, and I thought about this guy. The kind of person he is...I Uh, Well I changed my mind about wanting to keep it.”

Stan gestured as he waxed superstitions. Morty was impressed by this man’s perception. It was a good call. You don’t want to be the person that has something Rick Sanchez wants.  The man continued to ramble.

“But uh, a deal’s as deal, see? So I brought the ring to you instead of giving it back to him.  Seeing as he traded it for your life, it’s luckier if you hold onto it. That way, it still holds up the terms of the original deal. It’s real unlucky to go back on a deal like that, yeah?”

He dropped the necklace into Mortys hand. Morty had initially been disappointed to be woken by the strange character instead of Rick. He had become jealous when the stranger had without hesitation begun to share the closely guarded stories of his grandfather that Morty had yet to hear first hand. But after speaking with him for a few moments, Morty understood how his drunken grandfather could overshare with this guy. He seemed like an authentic person, but he had a certain kind of snake oil-type personality to him.   

“Listen...I was a bit worried about your grandpa last night. He took off with a bottle of Plutonian Whiskey, so I went to check up on him. I found him passed out in his...er, Galactic vehicle about a block south from here in the alley on 400. I turned him on his side, and left him a little Christmas present, but I think you should head out there and check up on him soon okay?.”    

Morty nodded towards Stan and studied the ring. He had never seen it this close before. He had caught glances of it hanging in front of Ricks’ chest from time to time. Morty had always assumed it was from his previous marriage to Diane; and therefore, he had always imagined it was important. There were so few items Rick kept in his daily rotation, let alone on his person. But he never knew the full story behind it - behind them.

He still didn't, but he felt he now knew enough to understand Rick a little bit more. Morty looked at Stan and smiled.     

"I'll do that, Thanks" 

 

*******

 

Morty couldn’t blame Diane for wanting out, because she was Right. Rick can’t make promises about the happiness or safety of the people who get close to him. He loved her too much to see that, so she made the choice for both of them.

Morty glanced at Rick as his grandfather held the ring with a tenderness Morty never thought he would see from the man. Even after so many years, Morty could see the life in Rick’s emotions as he studied the ring. His chest ached as he felt the weight of the ring as Rick cradled it. He wanted to comfort him.

“Rick.”

Morty began, unsure of where he was going with this. He rubbed the back of his neck as the fleeting moment of confidence, had just as quickly began to fade.

“I-I’m not her, and I-I’m not asking for you to make any kind of promises to me.”

Rick’s expression changed into a distanced and guarded frown. He wasn’t sure where Morty was going with this either.  

“I don’t want out Rick. This is my life. I’m choosing it. Whatever happens on our adventures, good or bad...I’m in this with you for the long haul - until one, or both of us get killed.”

Ricks frown deepened at the nonchalance with which Morty spoke about his dying. Shit. Morty panicked and decided to get to his point before Rick shut him down.

“But y-you’re not going to lose me in the same way that you lost her...is all...Okay?”

The space in the ship fell silent for a long uninterrupted moment before Rick abruptly scoffed and shoved ring back into Morty’s chest.

“Take it.”

Morty’s eyes widened in shock as he took in the seriousness in Rick’s expression. Rick averted Morty’s gaze and fished out the Christmas bourbon for another drink. He balanced the weight of the bottle as he brought it to his lips missing the lightness of his custom made flask.  

“Rick. Is this - are you pr-?”

Rick nearly spat out his drink.

“-Holy shit Morty! What do you think this is? A romcom! No, I wasn't - I’m just giving that ring back to you. You heard "Pawnshop Stan". A deal’s a deal! You’re the new official owner of it. Congratulations - it’s cursed, and full of empty promises. I’m glad to be fucking rid of it.”

Morty was at a loss for words. True to form, Rick had played it down and dismissed the action of having any real significance. But the deep meaning behind the gesture wasn’t lost on Morty, and he knew it wasn't lost on Rick, even if the scientist would never admit it. He fiddled with the ring trying to find the right words to express himself.

Rick interjected to fill the awkward silence Morty had created. 

“Don’t think about it.”

“I just...don’t have a gift for you.”

Rick set the bourbon down with an irritated sigh. He leaned across the floor of the spaceship placing his hands on either side of the boy. Morty looked up at the invasion of personal space and nervously swallowed. Rick snatched the necklace from Morty's hands, and refastened the clasp around the Morty’s neck. He intently stared into Morty’s eyes, as he played with the ring between his fingers.

Watching Morty nearly die the previous night, only to see his eyes so bright and alive this morning, stirred a deep and dangerous desire within him. He wanted nothing more than to slowly unwrap and taste every inch of him. He wanted to hold him so tightly that he was sure he would never lose him again.  

“I told you already.”  

He gently looped his finger through the ring and tugged, testing the clasp before tucking it into Morty’s shirt. A bit more possessive and rough than he had intended, Rick tilted Morty’s chin upwards into a deep and hungry kiss. Morty’s hands instinctively tangled themselves in Rick’s hair deepening the contact. Rick hummed a low satisfying sound at the passionate and needy tugs of his hair.

He grabbed Morty’s waist, pulling him into his lap and releasing a slight groan when Morty moved against him. He held Morty to his chest and bit into his shoulder. He used  his free arm to fan the garbage around the floor of the ship to make room for their bodies. He gently lay Morty on the floor beneath him and greedily continued to kiss trails along his neck and collarbone, enjoying the desperate and wanting mewls his work produced from the boy beneath him.  

He pulled away and sat up to activate the UV tint of the ship’s glass. Fuck, he should have thought of that when he had the headache. 

He took a second of pause to take a mental snapshot of the moment, but had forgotten how long he had been staring. 

He had never been with Morty like this, under any sort of honest lighting and it was unexpectedly vulnerable for them. Morty’s face was flushed and his breaths were heavy. He palmed his erection and reached for the older man as his body shuddered with a mixture of nervousness and want. Even as they were both fully clothed Morty looked embarrassed as hell when he caught Rick studying him so openly. It was a perfect moment with him: Floor of the ship, surrounded by garbage. It was so average. It was so mundane, but at the same time Rick knew that it was the center of his fucking universe, and it always would be.    

Rick leaned down to whisper into Morty’s ear, adding a gentle kiss on his neck.  

“I don’t need anything else, baby.”

Morty wrapped his arms around Rick’s waist and held onto him in a tight hug. Rick reciprocated the gesture. When they pulled away, Rick was gifted with one of those rare, genuine smiles from Morty. Morty chewed his lip playfully before leaning forward to whisper a very distinct request into Rick’s ear.

Although Rick had enjoyed the fantasy only minutes before, he had not expected Morty to move their relationship forward, let alone outright verbalize - in specific detail - exactly how he wanted Rick to take him. Even if it were a sort of vanilla-shy whisper in his ear, the request went straight to his erection, and they both knew it. Morty was going to give him a fucking heart attack saying dirty shit like that to the old man. He let out a shaky sigh, followed by an annoyed growl when the brunette played innocent, acting as if he hadn’t known the effect of what had just come out of his mouth. He batted his eyelashes and leaned in for a kiss.   

“Merry Christmas, Rick”

“Fuck Christmas.”  


End file.
